


Do You Wanna Dance? Do You Wanna Fight?

by zams



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Tommy Ratliff (Musician)
Genre: Action, Case Fic, Crossover, Drama, Drug Use (Mentioned), Dubious Consent/Coercion (Undercover Sting Operation), M/M, Minor Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-11
Updated: 2012-10-11
Packaged: 2017-11-16 02:40:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,105
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/534569
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zams/pseuds/zams
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>Tommy never thought someday he'd get mixed up with some prickly, enigmatic, dangerous government super-spy and end up playing pretty-bait for him in his high-stakes undercover assignment. But then again, Brad was involved, so Tommy really shouldn't be surprised.</em>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Do You Wanna Dance? Do You Wanna Fight?

**Author's Note:**

> **Warnings.** dub-con/coercion (undercover sting operation); brief violence (minor blood); mention of drug use
> 
> Written for the 2012 [Tommy Joe Ratliff Big Bang](http://tjrbigbang.livejournal.com). [heartsdesire456](http://heartsdesire456.livejournal.com) created a fantastic soundtrack to go along with this fic! Go listen to it [here [LJ]](http://heartsdesire456.livejournal.com/969019.html)!
> 
> Title from _Do It With A Rock Star_ by Amanda Palmer.

*

Tommy really needs to work on telling Brad “no.” If he could do that, it would save him a lot of trouble and grief, but Tommy never can, not when Brad gives him the puppy-dog eyes and pouts too prettily and says _Please, Tommy_. Tommy’s lack of will is why he’s in this coffee shop right now. He’s waiting for some guy Brad knows (“an old friend,” Brad claimed, but Tommy knows Brad really means an old boyfriend) because he needs some help for god knows what. Brad, as annoying as always, didn’t give Tommy any details, but of course told this friend that Tommy would love to help. The guy could want Tommy to help him hide a body or rob a bank for all either of them knows! But did Brad care about that possibility when he happily went off on vacation with Adam? No. 

Scowling, Tommy sucks down some more of his coffee, wishing he could spike it. When Brad gets back, Tommy’s going to get his revenge and it’s going to be glorious. 

“Tommy Ratliff.”

Hearing his name, Tommy looks up and nearly chokes on his coffee. This has to be the guy. He stares at the man in front of him, wondering where the fuck Brad ran into him. The man looks ordinary enough – tan, sunglasses, leather jack, dark jeans – but there’s something about him that screams ‘don’t fuck with me’ – his posture, maybe, or how he’s holding himself, the force and command behind his words. 

The man pulls his sunglasses off and says a touch impatiently, “You’re Tommy Ratliff, aren’t you?” 

Tommy shakes his head, clearing his throat. “Yeah.” He gestures to the chair opposite him, and the man sits down. “So you’re the guy Brad was telling me about? Clint, right?”

The man nods and holds out a hand. “Clint Barton.”

Tommy takes the offered hand, and holy shit, that is a firm grip. The man is _strong_. Tommy’s not naïve or stupid; there’s definitely more to this guy than meets the eye. Clint seems friendly enough, but Tommy’s still going to be cautious.

“Tommy Ratliff, but you already know that.” Pulling his hand free, Tommy leans back into his chair and crosses his arms over his chest. “So how do you know Brad? He really didn’t say much about you. He didn’t even tell me why you needed to meet with me.”

Clint studies him and Tommy tries not to fidget under the assessing gaze. 

“Then why did you agree?”

Tommy gives him a look. “You’ve met Brad. You know why.”

To Tommy’s surprise, Clint smiles. It’s a small one, but still a smile. “Point. Brad’s a force of nature.” 

Clint almost sounds _fond_ of all things, affectionate, and Tommy’s curiosity skyrockets. This is one of the strangest situations Tommy’s ever been in and Tommy’s been in a lot of strange situations, mostly thanks to Brad. Clint looks like he stepped right out of an action movie and he probably knows ten ways to kill someone with his pinky and he’s getting all soft-eyed over _Brad_. How does Brad do it? 

“How you do know Brad?” Tommy asks again.

“We’re old friends,” Clint says.

He pauses just a moment too long and Tommy has to laugh because Clint just confirmed his suspicions. Typical.

Clint cocks an eyebrow. “What?”

“‘Old friends,’ huh?” Tommy rolls his eyes. “You mean you fucked him.”

It’s a little blunter than Tommy would normally go for, but he wanted to see if he could catch Clint off guard – he definitely seems a little too controlled – and he smiles charmingly when Clint glares at him. “It’s okay. Brad has that effect on people.”

Clint does not look amused, but Tommy doesn’t care. “So you need my help?”

“Unfortunately.” Clint sighs and folds his hands on the table, leaning forward like he’s about to tell Tommy what’s going on. “Have you seen the news lately?”

“Not really.” Tommy shrugs, disappointed by the small talk. “I’ve been busy.” Adam had some gigs lined up the past few weeks and Tommy just got back to his apartment two days ago. He hasn’t even done any laundry and his kitchen is empty.

"Right." Clint puts his sunglasses back on and abruptly stands up. “Let’s go.”

“What? Go where?” Tommy looks up at him. “I haven’t even finished my coffee.”

“Then throw it away.”

Tommy scowls, appalled at the very thought. _Throw his coffee away_? “What, no! I’m staying here to finish my coffee.” 

Clint glares at him so fiercely that Tommy’s worried about him busting a blood vessel, which really is a little over the top, Tommy thinks. 

“I don’t have time for this,” Clint says. “If you’re not going to help me, stop wasting my time. If you do actually want to help, we need to go; we can’t talk here. It’s too public.”

Tommy glares back for good measure, but after a moment he mutters, “Fine,” and stands up. He pauses at the door and chugs the rest of his coffee before throwing the cup away. “Where are we going?”

“Where would you be most comfortable?”

Tommy thinks about it for a moment, looking Clint over. Clint’s a stranger, but Brad vouched for him and Tommy doesn’t get the vibe that Clint’s just waiting for the opportunity to stab him or something; he’s usually a pretty good judge of character. He shrugs. “We can go to my apartment. You got a car?” he asks. “I took the bus.”

“Not exactly.” 

He sounds strangely amused and Tommy finds out why when Clint walks over to a black motorcycle. 

“Oh, fuck me. Seriously? I gotta ride on this bike with you?”

“Yep,” Clint says cheerfully, and now Tommy wishes he had thrown his coffee in Clint’s face instead of chugging it. He doesn’t really like motorcycles, but he’ll just have to tough it out. 

Clint gives him a helmet, putting his own on, and swings a leg over the bike. He spreads his arm behind him in the friendliest gesture Tommy’s seen yet. “Your chariot awaits.”

Tommy grumbles under his breath as he fastens the helmet and then gets on the bike. 

Clint half-turns his head and asks, “So where do you live? I used to live in LA and I remember the city.”

Tommy tells him and Clint starts up the bike. “Hold on tight,” he says, and Tommy makes a face at the back of his head, but he does as Clint says, wrapping his arms around Clint’s torso. 

Clint expertly weaves through traffic, and Tommy concentrates on not making a fool of himself and staying calm. Unsurprisingly, the vibration from the bike and sensation of Clint’s hard body pressed against his is really not good for Tommy’s self-control. Clint may be an asshole, but he’s an attractive asshole.

The next fifteen minutes pass unbearably slowly, but finally they’re pulling up in front of Tommy’s apartment building. Tommy jumps off the bike as soon as possible, happy to be back on solid ground. Clint is silent on the elevator ride, and Tommy belatedly remembers that his apartment is a fucking disaster. But then he thinks ‘fuck it’ because he doesn’t really care what Clint thinks. 

Plopping down on the couch, Tommy props his feet on the coffee table and looks at Clint, who’s standing by the TV. Clint glances around the room and says, “Nice place.”

Tommy just gives him the finger. “Well, here we are,” he says. “You wanted privacy and you got it. So, what the fuck’s going on, G-man?”

Clint raises an eyebrow, sitting down in the chair adjacent to the couch. “G-man?”

“Obviously. I’m not an idiot.” 

Tommy’s half-convinced Clint wants to refute that, but he just says, “Fine. You’re right; I work for the government, but I can’t tell you any more than that.”

“Really?” Tommy drawls. “So what _can_ you tell me then? Anything? If I’m going to help you, you can be honest with me.” Tommy looks Clint up and down, considering. “Well, as honest as you can. I can imagine you saying ‘if I told you, I’d have to kill you’ and being serious about it.”

Clint doesn't take the bait, instead staring silently at him, and then he takes a breath just when the silence is getting really awkward. “I’m tracking a man who has introduced a dangerous new drug into the public sphere. He’s operating out of Los Angeles, rotating between various nightclubs. He’s been notoriously hard to locate, but we’ve finally been able to piece together a pattern.”

“Why’s he so important?” Tommy interrupts. “There are drug dealers everywhere. Isn’t that usually a local police kind of job?”

“He’s not a normal drug dealer,” Clint says after a pause. “First, he’s more of a supplier because he’s not selling, but working his own agenda; he's giving the drug to people he chooses based on criteria we’re not certain of, clearly not interested in money. We do know that this drug is in pill form and that he created it himself.”

Tommy tilts his head. “What does it do?”

“It alters a person’s DNA, resulting in a mutation. This would be a problem on its own because the risk of unnaturally altering DNA, but the mutation is temporary, lasting between forty eight and ninety six hours,” Clint says. “If you’d been watching the news, you’d know about the people who’ve died in accidents lately. The last person affected was a young woman who sprouted wings.”

Tommy frowns, thinking. Now that Clint’s mentioned it, Tommy vaguely remembers hearing something about that. The woman fell out of the sky, dying on impact. Tommy read in the paper that witnesses said the woman's wings just suddenly seemed to stop working. The first public case of mutation was years ago, and more quickly followed; it’s nothing new.

“Part of the difficulty in catching him has been the supplier himself; he doesn’t seem to be interested in mass attacks at the moment,” Clint continues. “He’s content to take his time, only frequenting the same clubs sporadically and only giving his drug to one person at a time. It could be he’s still testing the effects of his creation. So far, we’ve only discovered ten people who’ve taken this drug in nearly five months, four of whom have died as a result of their mutation suddenly disappearing.”

Tommy’s mind races as he tries to understand what Clint’s told him. “Okay. There’s this drug that gives people superpowers temporarily and you want to catch the evil mastermind behind it. Why exactly do you need me?”

Clint shifts on the chair, expression almost grim. “This situation needs to be contained. If this escalates any further it could become a national security issue and I, along with a small team, have been assigned to find and capture the supplier before we get to that level. If he sticks to his pattern, he’ll be at Adonis, a local gay club on the northeast side of the city, on Saturday night, looking for another target. Though I’m sure my team and I could handle this on our own, our superiors have decided we need someone more suited to this particular case than any of us are to assist.”

“Assist you how?”

“With blending in mostly,” Clint says, sounding reluctant. “Because of the difficulty we’ve had apprehending this man so far and the potential risk of the drug, we’re taking every precaution. I’m not very familiar with the ‘club scene,’ and my team’s job is recon, backup, and containment. Further, the dealer seems to have a type.”

Tommy raises an eyebrow at this. “A type?”

“Yes. Young, androgynous, slim build. Gender isn’t a factor. Brad was obviously my first choice when I was told I could choose a civilian. He fits that physical description, knows the club scene, and I trust him.”

“But you got stuck with me since Brad is on vacation,” Tommy finishes. “So let me get this straight. You want me to dress you up to go to a gay club and then loiter around as bait hoping I attract this dangerous drug dealer so you can swoop in and save the day when I do? Is that about right?”

“Essentially, yes. And you should be aware of something else before you agree."

This can't be good. Clint definitely sounds reticent like he doesn't want to explain. "And that is?" Tommy prompts.

To his credit, Clint meets Tommy's eyes and maintains contact. "You should know that the supplier has had sexual intercourse with all his targets," he says bluntly. "It’s likely he will be aggressive and insistent in his physical contact with you once you catch his eye, and the success of the job will hinge on you encouraging his attention.”

Well, fuck. Tommy sags back into the couch. “That's great,” he says. “Really great. Sounds awesome.”

“Can you handle that?” Clint asks, ignoring Tommy’s sarcasm. “You'll likely have to dance with him and let him touch you, maybe even kiss you. You need to be honest with me: if you can’t handle that, you need to tell me now.”

“I’m not going to say I’m happy about it,” Tommy finally says, “but I can handle it.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. So.” Sitting up and putting his feet on the floor, he leans closer to Clint. “Count me in. And that means we are going shopping," Tommy says, critically looking over Clint's clothes. "Adonis has a very specific dress code, after all.”

Clint almost looks relieved, and Tommy wonders what the fuck he’s just gotten himself into. 

*

The next afternoon finds them at the mall, and Clint stares disdainfully at the leather pants Tommy’s holding up. “Are those really necessary?”

Tommy smirks, shaking the pants. “What? You don’t like them?”

“No,” Clint says flatly.

“I think your ass will look great in these.” Tommy leans closer and bats his eyes. “Try them on for me?”

Crossing his arms over his chest, Clint glares, scowling. “No.”

“You know, you’re not much of a conversationalist.” Tommy wants to laugh at the expression on Clint’s face – Tommy wouldn’t be surprised to see steam coming out of his ears. The dude really needs to take the stick out of his ass and lighten the fuck up. “But I guess Brad wasn’t interested in hearing you talk.”

Tommy sees a muscle in Clint’s jaw twitch, and he pushes the pants into Clint’s hands. Tommy doesn’t want to push too far too fast; he’s just getting started. “Just try them on. You’re lucky I picked the black ones. They have some pink ones, you know.”

Clint masks his horrified expression quickly, but not quickly enough, and Tommy knows he’s won. Still, he gives Clint one more little push.

"You asked for my help," Tommy reminds him cheerfully. "If you're not going to listen to me, I might as well go home."

Clint takes a deep breath and exhales sharply. Still glaring, he snatches the pants from Tommy’s hands and stalks away, muttering under his breath.

Tommy grins, trailing after him and following him toward the fitting rooms. Oh, this is fun. Tommy might not have to get revenge on Brad for basically promising Clint that Tommy’d help with some dangerous, undercover government sting operation without permission. Clint’s too sexy and too easy to wind up for Tommy to resist. It didn't take Tommy long at all to recognize the attraction between them, and Tommy’s going to enjoy pushing Clint’s buttons until the tension’s too much and they can’t keep their hands off each other.

And he’s definitely going to enjoy seeing Clint in those leather pants. Tommy thinks Clint’s complaining too much anyway; the jeans he has on now are ridiculously tight, and his t-shirt isn’t doing much to hide his muscles either, Jesus. 

Clint stomps into a fitting room, and Tommy leans against the wall across from it. “I want to see them on you!” Tommy calls, chuckling when he hears Clint curse. 

A moment later, Tommy asks, “You’ve really never been to a gay club?” That seems a little strange to him. “I thought Brad would have dragged you to one at least once.”

Tommy’s surprised when Clint actually answers him. “No, Brad never got around to it, which is why I unfortunately need _your_ assistance.”

Tommy ignores the thinly veiled insult; Clint’s just prickly. “Oh, I see. So Brad kept you too busy in bed to actually take you out.”

“And what if he did?” Clint snaps, and Tommy’s eyes widen; that’s the biggest emotional reaction he’s gotten from Clint so far. 

Tommy’s about to respond, but Clint curses again and then door suddenly opens. 

Tommy makes a noise that embarrassingly resembles a squeak. But really, who can blame him with the sight in front of him? Clint’s shirtless, only wearing the leather pants, and Jesus fucking Christ, it’s hot back here. Tommy thought Clint had a nice chest, but he had no idea Clint was hiding _that_ under his shirt. His abs are as cut as his arms, and Tommy really, really wants to touch. There are quite a few scars on Clint’s chest, some faint and short, others more visible and bigger, but his muscles are too distracting for Tommy to really wonder about them at the moment.

Clint huffs. “These pants are completely impractical.”

Eyes dropping down, Tommy almost swallows his tongue. There’s certainly nothing wrong with those pants from his perspective! They’re tight, so tight they look poured on, and that’s definitely not a small bulge right there, shown off wonderfully by the leather. Clint turns around, and really, Tommy feels lightheaded from the rush of blood draining from his head from seeing the leather stretched over Clint’s ass. _Fuck_. 

“They’re so tight I couldn’t even hide my gun in the back.”

Tommy can’t stop staring at Clint’s ass. He should wear leather pants all the time. No reason to hide that sexiness, and… “Wait.” Tommy shakes his head, looking back up at Clint’s face. “A gun?”

“Yeah, my gun,” Clint says. “Something wrong with that?”

“A gun?” Tommy repeats, taking a step back. 

He was enjoying annoying Clint so much that he forgot why he was with Clint in the first place, but _that_ casual reminder definitely brought reality crashing down. Now those scars that Tommy just dismissed moments ago take on a deeper meaning, stark physical proof that Clint’s job is dangerous and confirmation that Tommy’s now mixed up in Clint’s world. Even though it all seems like fun and games now, the dress-up and teasing Clint over his inexperience, Clint is searching for a drug dealer, and not even an ordinary dealer, but one who has no issues with purposefully killing people. It’s not like some horror movie; this is dangerous and could get really ugly really easily. Clint could get hurt. _Tommy_ could get hurt. 

Everything seems far away and distant, disconnected, and then suddenly there are hands on his shoulders and Clint’s close, talking to him, and Tommy tries to concentrate on Clint’s words. 

“Hey, hey. Look at me, Tommy.” 

Clint’s voice is soft but commanding, and it helps calm some of Tommy’s panic. “But-,”

“I know,” Clint says quietly. “I know you’re worried, and _I’d_ be worried if you weren’t. This is dangerous. I told you that yesterday before you agreed to help me. Do you understand that this isn’t going to be fun and exciting like movies would have you believe?”

“Yeah, but… It just hit me now, you know?” He takes a deep breath. “When you mentioned your gun, I mean. I’m not used to them.”

“Most people aren’t. But I know what I’m doing. I can take care of myself, and I can take care of you,” Clint says. “And if things go bad, there’ll be others waiting for a signal. Trust me; I’ll keep you safe.”

“I do,” Tommy says, and he does. “Are… are you going to kill him?”

Clint doesn’t seem shocked by the question. “If I have to,” he says calmly. “I’m not going to lie to you, Tommy, at least not more than necessary. You _have_ to be aware of the risks. This guy isn’t going to go down easily. We know that from our recon. I’ll do what I have to do to eliminate the risk, even though my superiors want him alive.”

Tommy closes his eyes and takes another deep breath, trying to process this. “Okay. Okay.” Opening his eyes, he tries to smile and lighten the mood. “So do you like the pants? They make your ass look great.”

Clint smiles a bit. “Yeah, Tommy,” he says, gentle sarcasm coloring his tone. “I like the pants.”

*

Tommy doesn’t see Clint for two days, not until Saturday. Clint told him that he and his team had some recon to finish up and that Tommy should use the time to prepare. And Tommy did prepare, for a few hours maybe. The rest of time Tommy proceeded to freak out, mind running in a million different circles, imagining all the things that could go wrong. Of course, Tommy did spare a few thoughts planning his revenge on Brad.

But for all Tommy’s worry, he didn’t consider calling Clint and telling him he was backing out. He can’t. Tommy did a little research after Clint left his apartment the other day, finding news articles about the people who died after suddenly developing super powers. One guy lived only a block away from him. If Tommy can help get this asshole off the streets, even if it’s dangerous, he has to do it. It’s not an option to say no. 

And so on Saturday, Tommy’s dressed in his club best – leather jacket, super skinny jeans, chunky boots, necklaces – his make-up dark and smoky, and not a hair out of place, waiting for Clint to show up. Standing in front of the mirror, Tommy looks himself up and down, smoothing his shirt, but he keeps glancing to the left. Clint’s outfit is laid out on Tommy’s bed and he can see the reflection in the mirror, a reminder. It’s after nine already and Clint will be here soon, and then it’ll be show time whether or not Tommy’s ready for it. 

Tommy jumps when the knock comes, and he tries to keep his nervousness from showing on his face when Clint comes inside. “Your clothes are in my room,” Tommy says. “But I want to put some eyeliner on you first and fix your hair.”

Clint’s silent, staring at him, and the expression on his face makes Tommy want to fidget. If Tommy didn’t know any better, he’d say Clint was checking him out and liking what he’s seeing. “Clint?”

Saying his name breaks Clint out of his silence and he blinks at Tommy. “Eyeliner? Are you serious?”

Well, if Clint’s going to ignore the moment that just passed between them, so is Tommy. “Oh, I’m serious,” he says, playing along. He moves behind Clint and pushes at his back. “Let’s go, G-man. We have to get you prettied up.”

“Wow,” Clint says as Tommy pushes him down the hall. “Somehow in the past two days I forgot how much I love your company.”

“Well, then, I’ll just have to remind you.” Tommy opens the bathroom door, ushering Clint inside. “Now sit down on the toilet so we can get this over with.”

Grumbling, Clint sits down, and Tommy rummages through the drawers looking for the eyeliner he wants and then gets the hair gel out of the cabinet. He sets the gel on the counter for the time being and moves to stand in front of Clint, holding the eyeliner. 

Clint eyes it, looking resigned. “If you’re gonna do it, c’mon.”

Tommy laughs and steps closer, taking the cap off. “It’s only a little eyeliner,” he teases. “It’s not going to hurt you.”

“Says you.”

“Baby. Now tilt your head back a little and look up.”

Clint points a finger at him. “You better not poke me in the eye.”

“This isn’t the first time I’ve put eyeliner on someone,” Tommy says, rolling his eyes. “I’m not going to poke you in the eye, Jesus. Now hold still.”

Clint closes his eyes and slowly, Tommy drags the gel pencil across his upper eyelids. He feels the heat of Clint’s body so close to his, and he bites his lip, trying to concentrate, but it’s hard, especially since he can feel Clint’s eyes on him when Tommy’s lining his lower lids.

“Done,” Tommy says softly, but he doesn’t move away. Using his thumb, he absently wipes away some stray eyeliner from under Clint’s right eye.

“How does it look?” Clint’s voice is just as soft as Tommy’s, a low tone Tommy’s never heard from him, and it feels like a caress. 

Tommy stares at Clint. “G-good.” 

Clint stands up a moment later, his eyes never wavering, and Tommy feels trapped by his gaze. “Tommy.”

Tommy’s breath catches and then Tommy’s brushing his lips over Clint’s before he even really thinks about it, sending a shiver through his body. It can hardly be called a kiss, but it still makes Tommy’s heart race. Clint says his name again, and it’s then that Tommy realizes what he just did. He pushes Clint away, shaking his head. 

“I’m sorry,” Tommy says, unable to look at Clint. “I- Your clothes are in my room. Get dressed and we can go. It’s getting late.”

Tommy retreats to the living room as quickly as he can, needing to be away from Clint. He needs some space to step back now that he’s acknowledged his attraction. It was a mistake; they _can’t_ happen. Tommy hardly knows Clint; the little he does know only gives him reasons why nothing should happen. Clint’s strong and protective, yes, but he’s dangerous, too, not to mention his secretive and risky job. And Clint’s only here for his work. As soon as it’s done, Clint’ll be gone, and he probably won’t look back. It’s better to not get attached; there’s no future for them, even if Clint was interested in exploring the attraction. 

“Tommy? I’m dressed.”

“Great,” Tommy says, forcing a smile on his face and turning around. “Did you put the gel in your hair?”

Clint walks closer, almost cautiously as if he's unsure of how Tommy’s going to respond to him. “Yeah. Does it look okay? Fixing my hair’s generally not a concern of mine.”

“It’s fine. I just wanted to spike it up a little. You look good.” Tommy grabs his keys and cell phone from the coffee table, hoping Clint’s not going to mention what he did. “Are we taking your bike?”

He pushes past Clint, making for the door, but Clint grabs his hand. “Wait.”

Dammit. Tommy doesn’t want to wait. He doesn’t look at Clint. “What?”

A tense moment passes, and then he hears Clint sigh and he drops Tommy’s hand. “I want to go over the plan one more time,” he says. “This is the best opportunity we’ve had to take this guy out, and there isn’t any room for errors.”

“Fine.” Tommy faces Clint and forces himself to meet his eyes. “We go in separately,” he starts. “Me first, and you follow a few minutes later. I’ll go to the bar and order a drink.”

Clint nods. “Yes. Look approachable, casually confident. I’ll work my way around the room once inside, checking things out. We’re lucky one of his victims was able to remember enough to talk to a sketch artist and give us his name.”

“Derek,” Tommy puts in. “I remember. You’ll look for him, and when you find him, you’ll let me know. Then I’ll make sure I’m in his view, baiting him. Once he approaches men, I’ll distract him, dance with him, and then lure him away from the crowd so you swoop in once he gives me the drug,” Tommy finishes. “I know the plan, Clint. I won’t fuck this up.”

Clint gives him a small smile. “I don’t think you will, but you’re not trained. I just want to make sure there’s no confusion about what’s going to happen. This man is highly dangerous and highly trained. He could hurt you, Tommy, not hesitate to kill you."

“I know,” Tommy says firmly. “Once I’ve done my part, I won’t get in your way. I’m ready; can we go now?”

Clint’s eyes search his, but finally Clint nods. “Okay. Let’s go.”

*

Adonis is already packed when Tommy goes inside. Clint dropped him off a couple blocks away so they wouldn’t be seen arriving together. Weaving through the crowd, Tommy makes it to the bar, squeezing into an open space. He shouldn't drink, but he orders a rum and coke to calm his nerves when he manages to get the bartender’s attention. Facing the crowd, Tommy sips his drink as he looks around. Clint showed him the sketch, but as he’s supposed to stay near the bar until he’s trying to get guy’s attention, Clint will have a better chance of finding him. 

Out of the corner of his eye, he notices Clint enter, and it’s difficult not to look over. Adonis is a relatively exclusive club, connections or the right look and attitude required to get in, and Tommy does feel some pride that Clint blends in perfectly with the other club goers. Thinking about how Clint looks is distracting, and it takes some effort, but Tommy pushes all thoughts about their kiss from his mind. He shouldn’t, but maybe after this is all over, Tommy’ll think about if there could be something between them. 

A few guys quickly try to get Tommy’s attention, but none of them are Derek and Tommy doesn’t respond to their flirting.

“Give me a Heineken.”

It’s Clint. Tommy doesn’t look at him, but he does inch over. Clint doesn’t acknowledge him either, but that’s part of the plan, along with Clint ordering a beer he's not going to drink. Everything has to seem natural and normal so Derek doesn't realize anything's going on.

Clint gets his beer and says, still not looking at Tommy, “I found him. Four o’clock.”

Sipping his own drink, Tommy slowly turns around, and yes, he immediately sees Derek. Tommy hates to admit it, but Derek’s much more attractive than in the sketch. Tommy’s sure his confident smirk, dimples, and sculpted body ensure that he has his pick of men and women whenever he goes out. Right now, he’s chatting with a young man, but Tommy’s experienced enough to realize that Derek’s not really into him.

“Got him,” Tommy says. He finishes his drink, setting the empty glass on the bar, and walks away. He heads to the dance floor, making sure he passes right in front of Derek, and he shoots Derek a quick glance, a coy smile on his face. Arrogant or not, Tommy knows he always gets attention when he comes to gay clubs. 

Out of his peripheral vision, Tommy sees Derek’s eyes follow him as he passes and Tommy smirks to himself. The bait’s been cast and now Tommy just has to lure him in. Tommy knows how to read people, and even just this minimal contact with Derek tells Tommy more about him than Clint knew. Tommy knows just how to deal with men who think they’re god’s gift, gorgeous and entitled and cocky.

Tommy lets the music wash over him, and he starts moving, losing himself in the beat. Quickly, men approach him, but Tommy pushes them away. A few minutes pass, but then Tommy sees Derek move over to him, all arrogant swagger and egotism, and he presses himself against Tommy’s back. 

Tommy tries not to shudder, concentrating on the job he has to do. He turns around to face Derek so he can introduce himself and realizes that holy shit, the asshole is _huge_. He looms over Tommy, oozing confidence. When he says his name is Derek, he looks almost gleeful at being close to Tommy and Tommy knows his whole demeanor is deceptive, hiding his true nature.

Derek leans down and nuzzles Tommy’s neck, Tommy feeling his smirk against his skin. It makes Tommy’s skin crawl, and it only gets worse when Derek grabs his hips, holding on tightly, moving them both to the beat. Tommy thinks about Clint to bear the closeness as they dance, glad that at least he doesn’t have to look at Derek yet and flirt with him. 

The song ends, Tommy thinking it was both too long and too short, and Derek doesn’t let him go, not that Tommy really thought he would. That’s part of the plan, of course, but that doesn’t mean Tommy has to like it. 

As another song starts up, Tommy decides he can’t take another five minutes of this. He has to find a way to get them alone _now_ so Clint can take him out and Tommy can try to forget the feeling of Derek’s hands on him, which are running all over his body like Derek has the right. That’s bad enough, but then Derek starts kissing his neck and before Tommy knows it, Derek’s aggressively sucking on his neck. Tommy doesn’t think he can stand to actually kiss the guy, and that means Tommy has to get this show on the road ASAP.

Derek encourages Tommy to turn around, and reluctantly, Tommy does. 

“You move well, baby,” Derek says, leaning down like he wants to kiss him.

Tommy reacts instinctively, ducking his head out of the way so Derek’s mouth touches his cheek instead of his lips. “Yeah?” he says, making himself put his arms around Derek’s shoulder and press close to soothe the sting of being denied a kiss. 

Derek goes back to sucking on his neck, and Tommy knows there has to be a huge hickey blooming there already. “Uh-huh,” he says, whispering in Tommy’s ear. “I’d like to see more.”

Tommy takes a brief moment to compose himself and school his expression, and then he pulls back, giving Derek a teasing wink. “Would you?” He tries to look coy and vulnerable, knowing men like Derek usually have things for that. “That might be able to be arranged.”

Derek’s smirk turns predatory and one of his hands drops down to Tommy’s ass, roughly groping him. “Is that so?

“Mmm-hmm,” Tommy says. “Why don’t we go somewhere a little more private?” He hopes Derek doesn’t hear his increasing desperation.

Derek smiles, dimples showing, and on any other man it would seem friendly and sincere, but on Derek, it just feels artificial and sly. “I know just the place, baby.”

Tommy flashes him an answering smile that hopefully looks genuine and eager. “Lead the way.”

Derek’s face lights up, and his obvious excitement makes Tommy sick to his stomach. Derek leads them to the back of the club and through an archway that opens into a hallway. Tommy doesn’t turn around, but he knows Clint’s following them. They pass the bathrooms and Derek opens a door marked “Employees Only” a little further down the hall. Derek flips on the light and he’s casual enough about it that it’s evident he knew it would be empty. 

Immediately, Derek pushes Tommy against the wall and crowds him. “You’re gorgeous, sweetheart,” he says, sliding a knee between Tommy’s legs. “We’re going to have fun. But maybe you want a little something extra to make you feel good?”

This is exactly what Tommy’s been waiting for, and he's relieved that Derek’s not wasting any time. Looking up at Derek through his eyelashes, Tommy adopts a pouting expression. “Oh, yeah. Give me something. I wanna feel _good_.”

Reaching into his pocket, Derek pulls out a tiny blue pill. “Here you go, sweetheart. That’ll make you feel great.”

Tommy takes the pill in his hand, and immediately Derek starts kissing his jaw and cheeks, working his way to Tommy’s ear, nibbling on it, and Tommy hopes Clint gets this asshole off him like _now_. Derek grabs his ass again, hauling Tommy tightly against him, and finally Clint’s there next to them, expression hard, eyes furious and nostrils flaring, and he grabs Derek’s arm and _yanks_ , pulling him away. 

Derek cries out in surprise, cursing, and Clint slams him hard into the wall, face first. 

“You got the pill?” Clint demands, and Tommy nods, pressing back against the wall, eyes wide. 

Derek must realize he’s in trouble because he starts struggling, swinging his arm back and hitting Clint in the face. Clint staggers, seemingly caught off guard, but it only takes a second for Clint to retaliate by slamming him into the wall again. Derek kicks back, though, using his size to push Clint away, and Clint’s hold loosens from the force just enough to let Derek get free. 

Taking advantage of the moment, Derek lunges at Tommy, who’s clearly not far enough away from the action, yelling, “You little fucking shit!”

Paralyzed with fear, Tommy can’t move, but Clint grabs ahold of Derek before he can get to him. Tommy’s relief is short lived, though, as Derek changes course and throws a right hook into Clint’s stomach, using the momentum to slam Clint to the ground. Showing his skill, Clint works with the attack and smoothly rolls until he’s standing, but Tommy can see scrapes on his face, blood sluggishly coming down his cheek. Once he’s facing Derek again, body tense and clearly ready to attack, the only word Tommy can come up with to describe the look on Clint’s face is _rage_. 

Things get even crazier after that. Tommy’s seen fights before, but those were usually between drunken guys who could barely stand up. This is not that. It’s like a fight from an action movie; Tommy’s never seen anything like it. Clint punches and kicks Derek, even flips him, and Tommy just stares. Jesus Christ. 

He backs away until he’s huddled in the corner, unable to look away from Clint and Derek fighting. Slowly, he sinks down to the floor, one hand covering his mouth, the other clutching the pill.

Derek hits Clint a few times, and Tommy winces each time, but it’s obvious Clint is skilled enough to handle Derek’s brute strength. Getting a good hit in, Clint takes the opportunity to throw Derek on the floor and sits on top of him, Derek’s bleeding from a cut on his lip and on his temple. Clint grabs his head and slams it once, twice, three times on the floor, and then Derek finally goes limp, head rolling to the side and eyes closing. Clint waits a few moments, but when Derek doesn’t move, Clint stands up. He’s breathing heavily, sweating, and is bleeding from several places on his face. 

Tommy can’t think of a single thing to say to Clint. Nothing seems adequate, his feelings and equilibrium too out of whack to make sense of what he just witnessed and actually speak. 

Clint kneels down in front of him and curls a hand around his neck, forcing Tommy to meet his eyes. “Tommy. Listen to me. I have to take care of him before someone comes back here. Do you understand me?”

Tommy just nods, not trusting his voice yet. He blinks a few times and all of a sudden there are two other people around them, dressed in black. Where’d they come from?

“Can you stand up?” Clint asks him as he pulls Tommy’s hand away from his face.

Tommy tries to get up, but his legs are a little shaky, and Clint helps, steadying him. “I want you to go with Sam, okay?” 

Everything seems far away, hazy. “What?”

“I’m sorry,” Clint says, and Tommy thinks he sounds genuinely upset. “But I have to report to my supervisor as soon as possible. Sam will take you back to your apartment, okay? I trust him. You don’t have to worry.”

Tommy looks over at the man standing next to Clint, who's smiling gently at him. Tommy’s still too shocked, his mind still trying to process what he did and saw to refuse or ask questions. “Okay.” 

Opening his hand, which is shaking, he holds his palm out, the blue pill in the center.

“Thank you,” Clint says, taking it. He makes sure Tommy’s making eye contact when he says, “You did everything perfectly, Tommy. Everything.”

But Tommy can’t look at Clint anymore; he has to look away. His emotions are too raw and too confusing right now to deal with Clint on top of everything else. “Thanks.” But still, he can’t help but ask, almost wistfully, “Will I see you again?”

Clint pauses before he answers. “Do you want to see me again?”

“Yes.” That at least Tommy’s sure of; there’s too much unfinished between them for Tommy to give any other answer.

Clint takes his hand and squeezes it. “Then you will.”

*

For hours, Tommy sits on his couch, silent and staring at nothing. Cold-water drips down his neck from where he’s trying to ice down the hickey that Derek left on his neck, but it doesn’t really register. He’s tired, but he can’t sleep, his mind unable to shut down enough to actually let him fall asleep. He’s thinking. Thinking about Clint, about what happened tonight, about himself and what he wants.

Clint’s not going to stay. Tommy knows that. They only spent a few days together, most of the time Tommy trying to piss Clint off and Clint glaring, but somehow, Clint managed to sneak into Tommy’s affections. Of course, helping Clint catch some asshole drug dealer and watching Clint almost beat him to death to protect him may have had something to do with that.

Tommy sighs, glancing over at the clock. Four hours. Tommy’s been home for four hours and Clint still hasn’t come. He will – he promised, and Tommy may not know a lot about Clint, but he knows enough to know that Clint’s a man of his word. He won’t leave without saying good-bye. Until he sees Clint again, Tommy has to decide what he’s going to do. 

When the expected knock comes just a little while later, Tommy has decided, and by the time Tommy ditches the ice pack and opens the door, his heart’s racing. “Clint.”

Clint’s changed his clothes, wearing a plain shirt and relaxed jeans, and Tommy thinks he’s showered, too, because the eyeliner, blood and dirt are gone, replaced by a few bandages that are shockingly white against Clint’s tanned skin. As attractive as Tommy found him in the leather, this is better because it’s _Clint_.

“Tommy. Can I come in?”

“Oh, yeah,” Tommy says, stepping to the side. “Sorry.”

Closing the door after Clint, Tommy keeps his back to Clint for a moment, trying to compose himself. Now that Clint’s actually here, Tommy’s not sure how to begin. A light hand falls on his shoulder, and slowly, Tommy turns around, looking up into Clint’s face.

“Are you okay?” Clint asks. 

Tommy shrugs one shoulder, glancing away. “Yeah.”

“You don’t sound so sure,” Clint says. His hand drops away, but Tommy can feel the weight of it lingering. 

“I’m still processing, I guess,” Tommy says. Sitting down on the couch, he stares at his hands. “I’ve never seen a fight like that. You were… intense.”

Tommy looks up then and Clint’s in front of him, frowning. “Did I scare you?”

Tommy thinks about that for a moment. “A little, but I wasn’t afraid of you. I just finally realized how dangerous you really are.” He waves a hand and smiles a little. “I’ll be fine.”

Clint doesn’t look happy or satisfied by Tommy’s answer, but he doesn’t say anything. Reaching out, Tommy takes Clint’s hand in his own. “I’m fine,” he stresses, and he tugs gently on Clint’s hand.

Clint goes along with it, letting Tommy pull him closer, and he sits down on the couch next to Tommy, a little nearer than Tommy was expecting, but Tommy’s definitely not complaining about that. 

Clint stares straight ahead. “Sometimes I forget,” he says quietly, “that most people aren’t used to violence. Violence should be upsetting. It’s normal to be upset.”

Tommy bites his lip at Clint’s unspoken _But I’m abnormal_ , and he moves even closer to Clint, until they’re pressed together side by side. Slowly, he lays his hand on Clint’s face and turns his head. “You keep the world safe. You kept _me_ safe.”

“Tommy…” Clint’s eyes search his, and Tommy feels the tension build as they stare at each other. “I should go.”

“Probably. But if you leave now I’ll always regret not doing this,” Tommy says, and then he closes the distance between them and covers Clint’s mouth with his own. 

For a few moments, the kiss is soft and gentle and full of unvoiced emotion reminiscent of their kiss earlier. There’s no hesitancy or awkwardness, Clint’s lips parting easily and moving against Tommy’s. But slowly the kiss changes, turning more forceful and filling with the intent and purpose their barely-there kiss before lacked, and Clint pulls Tommy against him, practically hauling him into his lap. Tommy moans, breaking the kiss, and sucks in a deep breath, shivering at the restrained strength Tommy can feel in Clint’s body.

Clint nuzzles at Tommy’s neck, inadvertently rubbing the bandage on his cheek against Tommy’s chin before taking advantage of Tommy’s distraction to grasp the back of Tommy’s head. He angles it where he wants, sucking just under Tommy’s jawline. Clint stays away from the spot Derek marked, but he does briefly brush his fingers over the bruise in what feels like a silent apology.

“Clint,” Tommy moans, arching into him, and then Clint’s other hand drops down to his ass, large and possessive, and Tommy’s brain short-circuits, feeling the complete opposite of the revulsion with Derek. Clint’s gonna kill him and they haven’t even done anything yet. “Oh, god.”

“Mmm,” Clint murmurs, lips trailing back to Tommy’s ear. “I love having you in my lap, but why don’t we take this to bed?” 

“Yes! Fuck, yes,” Tommy says. He clutches at Clint’s shoulders, wanting to be closer, wanting to feel more of Clint’s hard body against his. It’s fast, Tommy knows that it is, but they don’t have time for anything else, and Tommy doesn’t want to wait anyway. “Please.”

Clint leans back to look Tommy in the eye, and grins in a gleeful way Tommy hasn’t seen yet. “Begging already? I’m flattered.”

He squeezes Tommy’s ass hard, and Tommy gasps. “Asshole,” he says. He wants to sound angry, but even Tommy can hear how breathy the word is. “Just take me to bed. And you can carry me there since you’re being a bastard.”

Clint chuckles. “Carry you? I can do that.”

Without warning, Clint stands up, taking Tommy with him, and hoists Tommy over his shoulder as he starts walking.

“Clint!” Tommy shouts indignantly, wiggling. “This isn’t what I meant!”

“No? I kinda like it. Nice view,” Clint says, sliding a hand over Tommy’s ass. 

“Jerk,” Tommy says again, trying to sound irritated. 

“All right,” Clint says. “How about this?” Bringing his arms up, Clint wraps one around each of Tommy’s legs and slowly pulls him down. 

Getting the idea, Tommy helps Clint and puts his legs around Clint’s body, supporting himself as much as possible so he doesn’t fall. When he’s face to face with Clint, arms and legs snugly around him, Tommy makes sure he’s glaring. 

Clint seems unaffected, eyes amused. “Is this better?” he asks, and Tommy would think Clint was mocking him if he didn’t look so damn contented. Before Tommy can answer, Clint’s kissing him again, this time wet and deep, and Tommy moans helplessly, overwhelmed, forgetting all about why he thought Clint was a jerk.

The next thing Tommy realizes, he’s being laid down on his bed, Clint hovering over him, eyes filled with intent as he looks at Tommy. Jesus Christ, Tommy’s in for it, and god, he wants it. Any fatigue he was feeling is gone, the only thing left longing and need. This is Tommy’s only chance to be with Clint and he’s not going to waste it.

“Naked,” Tommy demands, tugging on Clint’s shirt. “Now.”

“Impatient, huh?” Clint says, but the way he hastily pulls his shirt off and then Tommy’s betrays his own impatience. Their pants are next, Clint taking care of both of them, shoes, socks, and underwear following, and then they’re naked, Tommy’s eyes hungrily roaming over Clint’s body. Those leather pants didn’t leave much to the imagination, but seeing Clint naked and hard makes Tommy’s stomach flip and his heart race. 

Clint’s torso is littered with scars, and the bruises from his fight earlier stand out as an angry red and black mottling on the lower left half of his torso. Unable to stop, Tommy reaches out to gently brush his fingertips over the angriest of bruises, feather light, wishing he could take the pain away, and then he moves higher, running his hand up Clint’s stomach, reveling in how firm it is, tracing faded scars through the light covering of hair. 

_How many fights must Clint have been in to get all these scars? How much pain has he suffered through?_ The thoughts run through his mind, and something must show on his face because Clint grabs his hand and brings it close to his mouth, placing a kiss on Tommy’s palm.

“It’s nothing,” Clint says. “They don’t hurt.” 

_But you’ve been hurt_ , Tommy wants to say, but he doesn’t, forcing the words back. Clint seems so calm, so in control, the complete opposite of Tommy, emotions all over the place and body aching for Clint’s touch.

“Tommy,” Clint says, cupping Tommy’s cheek in his hand. “Don’t.”

Clint leans down and kisses him, pushing Tommy into the mattress with his weight, the sensation of Clint’s groin fitting against his own making him lightheaded. It’s not going to be hard or rough tonight, he can already tell, and Tommy’s okay with that, even though that’s not exactly what he was expecting.

Giving into his desire, Tommy’s wandering hands slowly explore Clint’s body, Clint’s hands on him in turn. Still kissing, the passion builds slowly as they move against each other, intense and sharp. Clint’s hands feel so good on his body, strong and skin slightly rough, and Tommy moans his encouragement. 

“Do you like this, Tommy?” Clint asks him, sounding just as affected as Tommy feels as he grabs Tommy’s hips tightly and grinds against him. 

Tommy’s tongue is thick, heavy, but he manages to nod and answer, “Yes…” around another moan. 

Feeling safe lying under Clint, Tommy lets him take charge, eager to find out what Clint’s going to do to him. Clint kisses him everywhere, Tommy vaguely realizing that he’ll be covered in bruises tomorrow, and the thought of it makes Tommy dizzy. Clint suddenly scoots down and takes Tommy’s cock deep in his throat without warning, and Tommy comes almost immediately, too worked up from Clint’s almost torturous foreplay to last longer. Clint doesn’t seem to mind, keeping his mouth on Tommy and swallowing all that Tommy gives him. 

When Clint lets Tommy’s cock slip out of his mouth, he looks smug, very pleased with himself, and if Tommy’s brain just hadn’t been sucked out of his dick, he’d glare. 

“Mmm,” Clint says, moving back up to kiss him. “You’re delicious.”

If Tommy weren’t distracted by the kiss and tasting himself on Clint’s tongue, he’d probably be blushing at Clint’s comment. As it is, all he can do is hold onto Clint and groan into the kiss. Clint barely gives him any time to recover, abruptly ending the kiss just as Tommy’s getting into it and moving back down his body. 

Tommy feels the loss keenly. “Clint?”

“Shh,” Clint soothes, caressing Tommy’s sides. “You’ll definitely like this.”

 _Roguish_ is the word that immediately comes to mind seeing Clint’s expression and it makes Tommy’s breath come short. Clint puts a pillow under Tommy’s ass, angling it up, and spreads Tommy’s legs, opening him up completely. Tommy moans, ridiculously turned on by being in such a vulnerable and exposed position with Clint, and that moan turns into a “Clint, fuck!” when Clint’s mouth covers his hole and _sucks_.

There are no teasing licks, just broad strokes and forceful sucking. Clint rims him amazingly, Tommy grabbing at the sheets desperately and cock quickly hardening again. Whatever brain Tommy had left after that blowjob turns to mush and he strains to spread his legs as wide as possible to get as much of Clint’s lips and tongue that he can. 

Clint’s lips and tongue working him make him lose his mind. Wet fingers soon join Clint’s tongue, sliding in easy and deep, and Tommy doesn’t even care about the nonsense and filth coming out of his mouth. 

Briefly, Clint’s mouth leaves him, and Clint says, “Fuck, the noises you make,” all rough and raspy before diving right back in.

Tommy’s head thrashes on the bed, almost delirious. Clint’s tongue already is making him feel like he’s going to explode, and the sound of his voice and his words send Tommy’s pleasure to another level.

Tommy thinks Clint’s going to make him come again that way, and just when Tommy’s about to, Clint pulls away, sitting back on his calves. Tommy pants, the abrupt loss of sensation leaving him shaky, and Tommy watches with heavy eyes as Clint rolls on a condom and slicks on lube as he tries to calm down. Clint blankets him, bracing himself on his hands, one on either side of Tommy’s head when he’s finished, commanding Tommy’s attention.

“Clint…” Tommy breathes, feeling pinned by Clint’s gaze, and Clint kisses him, pushing into his body at the same time. 

It’s almost too much for Tommy to take. Heart racing, Tommy locks his legs around Clint’s hips once Clint’s fully inside him. Clint’s big, and the stretch burns in just the right way. Keeping Tommy’s eyes, Clint starts moving, slowly at first, more rotating and grinding more than anything else, and it sends pleasure shooting up Tommy’s spine. 

“I want you to remember this when I’m gone,” Clint tells him, voice deep and gravelly in a way that does funny things to Tommy’s stomach. “Remember how I feel inside you, how my hands feel on your body, how my lips feel on your own. I want you to remember everything, remember _me_.”

Tommy can’t do anything but hold on and moan in the face of Clint’s possessive words, desperate to have Clint’s lips on his again, taking his mouth the same way Clint’s taking his body. Clint meets him halfway, the kiss as possessive as his words, and the speed of his thrusts increases, Tommy eagerly welcoming the change. Clint keeps them steady and smooth, the strokes somehow more powerful because of their restraint than if they were merely rougher and harder.

He wants to hold on to the pleasure, let it build forever; he’s not ready for it to end, not ready to let Clint go, but it’s a futile wish. One time isn't enough, but it's all he has. So he tries, he does, but too soon, the pressure builds to its peak, and Tommy can’t hold back anymore. He comes all over their stomachs, gasping out Clint’s name and arching up. Feeling Tommy’s pleasure, Clint bites at Tommy’s lips and it doesn’t take him long to come too, holding himself deep inside Tommy as he does. 

Boneless, Tommy’s legs fall to the bed and he breathes like he’s just run a marathon. For a few seconds, Tommy savors the feeling of Clint’s body completely covering him, heavy and wonderful, but then Clint moves, kissing Tommy softly and lingeringly before he eases his cock out of him, Tommy sighing from the empty feeling. Efficiently, Clint takes the condom off and uses the tissues on Tommy’s bedside table to clean most of the mess off their bodies. 

“Don’t leave yet.” The words burst forth unexpectedly, and Tommy didn’t want to turn clingy or needy, but he can’t help it. 

“I’m not,” Clint says softly, lying down on his side next to Tommy. “I’ll stay with you for awhile, until you fall asleep.”

Clint pulls him into his arms, and Tommy goes willingly, resting his head on Clint’s shoulder and closing his eyes. He’s always loved to cuddle after sex with someone he cares about and he’s going to savor the feeling. Tommy’s comfortable like this, warm and relaxed, and listening to Clint’s heartbeat lulls him into a light doze. 

“If I could, I’d stay,” Clint suddenly says, the words quiet, and Tommy forces himself back to awareness. “And see where this goes,” Clint goes on. “It’s not just you.”

Tommy bites his lip to keep quiet. There’s nothing he can say that would change anything, and he’d probably end up doing something embarrassing and useless like making everything more difficult by asking Clint to stay even though he knows it's not possible.

Clint touches his head and then starts running his fingers through Tommy’s hair, untangling it. Tommy just cuddles closer and nuzzles his face in the crook of Clint’s neck, hoping that says what he can’t with words. Unwillingly, Tommy’s eyes get heavy from hearing Clint’s rhythmic breathing and feeling the steady strokes through his hair, and he falls asleep with the unrealistic wish that Clint will still be here in the morning in mind.

*

Tommy doesn’t want to wake up.

The sunlight is bright and harsh against his eyelids, and Tommy turns away from it, burrowing his face in his pillow. He knows that Clint is gone, knows that if he opens his eyes, last night will really be over, only a memory, but he can only hide for so long. Eventually, he forces his eyes open, blinking to clear the sleep from them. Feeling contemplative, he spends a few minutes staring at the ceiling, trying to collect his thoughts. He already misses Clint, misses trading snarky comments with him and riling him up, and that’s something Tommy never thought would happen when he first met Clint a few days ago. 

It feels much longer than that. So much happened. He met a super spy from a secret government agency who’s dangerous and deadly and enigmatic, took down a murderous drug dealer, and had amazing sex with said super spy, all in a matter of days. It’s surreal. He doesn’t even know how to begin to deal with all of this now that he has the time to actually think about what’s happened. Actually, Tommy’s trying to avoid that because he _likes_ Clint, a lot actually, and he wishes they could have dated and seen where their attraction could have gone. 

Too bad life isn’t like an action movie. Doesn't the hot chick always get with the badass hero, riding off into the sunset on his motorcycle? Clint's got one, so why doesn’t Tommy get the happy ending? 

He rolls his eyes at his ridiculous thoughts and stretches. Real life awaits, life without Clint and drug dealers and violence. Brad and Adam will be back in a couple days, and Brad’s definitely going to question him about Clint. Tommy needs to prepare for that, and that means Tommy has to get up, not laze around in bed all day. Not that he wants to, anyway, not with the memory of Clint so fresh in his mind. Best to think about something else. There’s laundry to do and food to buy, all the things Tommy put off in order to help Clint. 

Sitting up, Tommy sighs, and then he freezes when he glances at his bedside table. There, right next to his cell phone, is a second phone, new looking but not a smart phone. Tommy’s never seen it before. Could Clint have left that for him, not ready to let go either? 

Reaching out, Tommy picks it up and flips it open. There’s a notification on the small screen, telling him he has a new text message from _Clint_. Biting his lip, Tommy clicks _open_ and reads the message that appears. It’s short, straight to the point, and reminds Tommy of Clint so much that he wants to laugh.

_I’ll be in touch._

Tommy doesn’t think twice about responding. Smirking, he quickly types out a reply and clicks send, wishing he could see the look on Clint’s face when he reads the message. 

_Don’t keep me waiting too long, G-man._

**END**

**Author's Note:**

> I cannot thank **Taylor** and **Alissa** enough for all their wonderful, thorough, and dedicated beta work. This fic would not exist without them. THANK YOU. ♥ I also want to thank [lizibabes](http://lizibabes.livejournal.com) for her encouragement, optimism, and support while I was writing this fic. *hugs*


End file.
